


Blind Fury

by jazzyproz



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Angst, F/M, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, Independence, Police
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:08:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23451469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jazzyproz/pseuds/jazzyproz
Summary: “I never want to see him again!” Phryne tossed back the last of her drink... DI Jack Robinson has done something to upset Melbourne's most famous Lady Detective and this time, she's had enough and she's leaving town... What will happen to the partners now?(My escape from the current health crisis in which we all find ourselves! I hope this helps distract us for a little while!)
Relationships: Phryne Fisher/Jack Robinson
Comments: 39
Kudos: 157





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome! 
> 
> This idea (along with countless others) has been running around the JazzyMuse brain for months… But, as is often the way, real life interferes, and writing is forced to take a backseat... Initially, the plan was to crank out a quick little one-shot, but that plan fell apart as soon as my fingers started typing. LOL (I swear, the JazzyMuse doesn’t understand the concept of a one-shot….) I suspect this takes place sometime in S2… for reasons you’ll find out later in this tale, it’d be necessary that it occurs before ‘Dead Air,’ but sometime after they recovered from their fallout following ‘Blood at the Wheel.’ In my imagination, our two detectives work a lot more cases off-screen - they only show us the crème de la crème. 
> 
> I haven’t watched the movie yet, though I am in the US and I do have an Acorn subscription… I’m hesitant to see it for fear that my happy little bubble of dreams and expectations will burst on the off-chance that I’m disappointed… For those of you who’ve seen it, I hope you enjoyed it, and for those who haven’t, hopefully you get the opportunity to see it when you’re ready!
> 
> We are all living in a strange world at this time. Please keep yourselves and your family as healthy as possible, practice social distancing and disinfect everything! If you’re a people-person, I know it’s difficult to stay away from friends and family, but for now, it’s a necessary inconvenience. I hope that, if nothing else, you find a bit of escapism in this little tale. Please enjoy!
> 
> I don't have a beta, so all mistakes are my own.... Sorry! 
> 
> Disclaimer: As always, I lay no claim to these main characters.

“I never want to see him again!” Phryne tossed back the last of her drink, ignoring the intense burning sensation that spread through her chest. 

“ _ Phryne _ ,” Mac sipped from her own tumbler, knowingly eyeing the other woman over the rim. 

“I’m  _ serious  _ this time, Mac. He’s an... arrogant… old-fashioned… insufferable....” Her thoughts were so blinded by her fury that she struggled to come up with another insult. “ _ MAN! _ ” 

“Well,” the good doctor shrugged one shoulder and bit back a smirk. “You hit that last bit right on the head… He  _ is  _ a man…”

“Whose side are you on?!” The Lady Detective glared at her best friend, the daggers in her eyes as lethal as any tangible weapon. 

“Darling, you know I’m on your side. I’m  _ always  _ on your side…” She looked down into the dark amber liquor, swirling it absently. “ _ But… _ I think.. there  _ is  _ some merit to his concern…” She dared not look up right away, anticipating the expression Phryne would certainly wear as, in her frustration, the Lady Detective misinterpreted opinion as betrayal. “You didn’t warn anyone as to your plans… If it weren’t for the Inspector’s leap of logic as to your possible whereabouts, the police may not have reached you in time… You can’t tell me that you’re actually surprised that his knee-jerk reaction would be rife with anger once he ascertained your ultimate well-being…” 

Phryne had the nerve to look insulted at her oldest friend’s perception of the whole situation. “I would have figured a way out,” she raised her nose into the air and looked away. “I always find a way… Jack had no business talking to me the way he did.  _ Especially  _ within earshot of my household...” 

“Could’ve been worse… He could have done it in front of the entire constabulary, which would have been well within his rights as DI, Phryne! Or he could have raised a stink within hearing distance to the nursing staff at the clinic.  _ But, he didn’t.  _ He held his tongue until you were discharged with a clean bill of health and sent home.” Mac leaned forward, leaning her elbows on her knees. “He was angry because that man is in lov-.”

“Don’t you  _ dare _ , Elizabeth MacMillan,” she leaned forward and pointed a well-manicured finger at the doctor. “You don’t know  _ anything  _ about the Inspector, let alone his affections.” She flopped back in her seat and crossed her arms. “He thinks that because we solve the occasional mystery side-by-side that he can dictate my actions.”

“The  _ occasional  _ mystery….?” Mac deadpanned at Phryne’s downplay of their unconventional partnership. 

“Well,” Phryne ignored her friend’s interjection, plowing forward with her vehement objection. “ _ No one _ controls Phryne Fisher  _ except  _ Phryne Fisher!”

Mac noted the heated determination in Phryne’s eyes and simply finished her drink. Wordlessly, they sat together for several minutes, each lost in her own thoughts. Phryne fumed over the audacity of Jack Robinson for demanding that she check-in whenever planning a late-night investigation, while Mac weighed the pros and cons of supporting the dearest friend she’d ever had or outright agreeing with the perfect logic put forth by the Detective Inspector in this instance. When Phryne’s empty glass was thumped onto the table with finality, interrupting the heavy silence, Mac knew it was time to take her leave. 

She pushed up and placed her glass on the coffee table, eyeing Phryne sideways. “Give him a few days, Darling, he’ll be back knocking on your door and you’ll see - things will be back on track.” 

Stubbornly, she pinned Mac with cold eyes. “He can knock all he wants, but if he knows what’s good for him, that man will never attempt to step foot in my home again. I made it perfectly clear he was no longer welcome here.” When she saw the argument forming in the doctor’s eyes, she rose as well, quickly changing the subject. “I’ll be going away for a little while. Since my return to Australia last year, I’ve neglected to visit some friends up in Brisbane - a woman with whom I served in the ambulance corps. She and her husband have invited me several times to come for a visit. I think it’s high time I take them up on their offer.” 

Mac nodded solemnly, feeling sad for her friend. Being a professional in the medical field, she knew just how fleeting life could be, and she would have expected Phryne to realize it as well. With each passing day that she and the Inspector continued to ignore their true feelings, the partners were a day closer to losing one or the other. It was a grim outlook on life, but for a pragmatist, it was hard not to see life with such a jaded view. 

“How long will you be gone?” She knew it would be useless to try to talk her out of running.

“I don’t know yet.” Phryne didn’t want to be angry with Mac. She could feel the disappointment and, worse,  _ disapproval _ rolling off the red-head in heated waves. “And if he tries to ply you for information, you can tell him to go to hell. It’s none of his damn business what I get up to.” 

Mac knew Phryne was scared by her own feelings for the Inspector as her emotions continued to toe the line of comfort. She held hope that a few days apart might help the wonderfully,  _ and admittedly infuriatingly  _ independent woman and the stubborn Inspector clear their minds enough to finally see what the rest of their mismatched family had been seeing for months. 

“Well,” Mac sighed as she moved out to the foyer, collecting her hat and jacket. “I suppose I’ll see you when you’re back, then. Have a good trip.” She allowed Phryne to kiss her cheek and hugged her tenderly, as she would a beloved sister. “Let’s have dinner when you’re home.” 

Phryne locked the door after Mac left, knowing that her household had retired to bed long before. With her emotions battling between anger, frustration and sadness, she turned off the lights and took herself up to her bedroom, planning out her impromptu trip in her mind. It would be good to see Harriet again, she consoled herself; the older nurse had been the one to show a young, newly-enlisted Phryne Fisher the ins-and-outs of working in a field hospital. 

~MFMM~

“But, Miss,” Dorothy tilted her head. “I always travel with you for your out-of-town overnight trips.” She wasn’t sure what she’d done to upset her mistress enough to be left behind. “Who will accompany, and assist you, or draw your baths and make tea?” 

Phryne realized that, in her haste to make arrangements and pack a suitcase, she had implied to Dot that she was unhappy with her companionship. She reached out, taking Dot’s hand and pulled her to sit beside her on the bed. “Harriet and her husband live very simply, Dot. They do not have staff and they have a small cottage. I won’t be gone very long, perhaps a week, maybe two, I haven’t quite decided yet - it all depends on what kind of mischief I can get into,” she tried to put the younger woman at rest. “During my time away,” she smiled softly, “I’m certain I’ll be able to draw my own baths.”

Dorothy met her employer’s eyes and saw something there she didn’t recognize. “Miss, did something happen? Something bad?” 

Phryne couldn’t help the pride that swelled in her chest, the dear girl was certainly honing her powers of observation. “Nothing that won’t right itself,” she assured her companion. “I just need some time away. Alone.” 

“It’s because of the Inspector, isn’t it, Miss?” It was more a statement than a question.

Phryne’s brow wrinkled, she was deeply angry with Jack for picking such a vocal argument with her once she’d returned home from the Women’s Hospital. Lying to Dot, however, was not an option. “I certainly did not appreciate the Inspector trying to tell me how to conduct my business… I don’t tell him how to run the Station…” She saw Dot’s expression turn sympathetic towards the Inspector’s cause, having discreetly voiced a similar wish to have been clued in on her employer’s whereabouts during the dangerous stake-out. “I think I made it perfectly clear to the Inspector that he is no longer welcome at Wardlow. I won’t tolerate a man trying to control me or my actions.” 

“I don’t think the Inspector was trying to  _ control  _ you, Miss… I get the impression that he just cares and -”

“Stop, please.” Phryne raised a hand. “This is my decision, period. The opportunity to drive up and visit Harriet is a very welcome break, while I recharge myself. When I return, I will start taking new cases again, and if I require any assistance from the Victoria Constabulary, I will seek it from City East.” 

Dot felt hurt and betrayed that her mistress suddenly didn’t trust her beau any longer, either. “But, Miss, Hugh would still-” 

“Hugh answers to the Inspector. His loyalties will, naturally, lie with his boss and mentor. As it should be,” she added quietly. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to place him into a difficult position by asking for help, and I know that Jack will be reluctant to provide so much as an opinion, let alone police resources.” 

Dorothy nodded sadly. “I suppose you’re right, Miss.” She looked down at her own hands where she tugged at the hem of her apron. “You’ll leave your contact information, in case we need to reach you?” 

“Don’t worry about reaching me, Dot.” Phryne reached out and covered her hand again, giving her a little squeeze. “It will take me a few days to get there, I plan on following the coastal roadways. I’ll telegram updates in regards to my return, so you know. Until then, enjoy some time off from having to follow me around and clean up my messes.” When Dot, bless her heart, started to disagree with the assessment, Phryne chuckled. “I am not delusional, Dot, I know I’m not an easy person. Both you  _ and  _ Mr. Butler deserve some time off,  _ with pay _ , of course. Perhaps you can spend some time visiting with your mother, or your sisters.” 

Dorothy felt dejected but nodded in agreement all the same. “You’ll be safe? Are you sure you don’t want to take the train instead of the Hispano?” 

Phryne smiled. “I’m sure. I’m quite looking forward to finding some adventures enroute, and I can’t do that from inside a train car!” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Welcome back! Thanks for returning! I hope you enjoy!

“Your autopsy results,” Mac announced without preamble as she entered Jack’s office uninvited. She surrendered the folder to his outstretched hand, noting uncharacteristic dark circles under the Inspector’s eyes. 

Instantly flipping open the summary, his brow wrinkled. “An  _ overdose _ ? And the cocaine was tainted?” His eyes shot up to meet Mac’s. “Was it the same concentration as the Wiggins brothers?” 

“Exactly the same  _ composition _ . The dosage was not as high, but Suzanne was half the size of her brothers, she didn’t need as high a concentration.” Mac sat down in the guest chair, crossing her legs and leveling her gaze on the man across the desk. “You look like hell.” 

Jack was not surprised at the observation, but he  _ was  _ surprised that she so readily offered her opinion. “I’ve been putting in a lot of hours on this case,” he deflected and turned his attention back to the report. “Lacerations on her  _ gums _ ? Bruising on her cheeks and lips… Self-inflicted bite marks on her tongue and inner-cheeks...” 

Mac folded her hands on her lap and refocused on the case. “I don’t think she was a regular user of cocaine. I requested her medical records from her primary physician,” she pointed to a page that Jack had just extracted. “She was in excellent health, no indications that she partook of the family trade on any sort of regular basis. She suffered from several broken blood vessels in her nose which appear to have happened very close to death; there was no scar tissue indicative of previously broken vessels.” She paused to see if he picked up on her message. “Someone  _ forced  _ her, Inspector… Someone ground the cocaine into her gums… probably cut off her ability to breathe through her mouth, necessitating her to breathe through her nose, thus inhaling whatever powder with which they coated her nostrils….” She sighed. “This poor young lady was murdered in cold blood. Her death would have been  _ painful…  _ The level of overdose would have resulted in seizures, probably lasting hours, during which she would have been biting herself as her muscles spasmed. Eventually, as you will see,” she nodded to the report, “she suffered a stroke and ultimately a heart attack.”

“Shite,” Jack swore uncharacteristically. “We’ve got our work cut out on this one,” he closed the folder and pinched the bridge of his nose. “It was bad enough trying to gather enough evidence to pin the Wiggins family for  _ dealing drugs…  _ Now we’re charged to find whoever wants the whole Wiggins enterprise out of the picture, and it seems they’ll stop at nothing to get rid of them.” With a sudden thought, he grabbed and flipped through the report again. “There were no signs of sexual assault?” 

“Not in this instance…” Mac pushed up to her feet. “Perhaps the murders of those other women on your docket aren’t connected,  _ and _ ,” she shrugged, weighing the risk of her suggestion, “ _ maybe _ Phryne’s kidnapping wasn’t, either…” 

“It was. They are,” Jack responded gruffly, his instincts strong. “They are  _ all _ related, and I  _ will  _ figure out how.” He rolled his lips between his teeth and flipped through his pile of folders, dismissing her with his subsequent silence. 

~MFMM~

“Fisher residence,” Mr. Butler answered the telephone call. Since his employer had gone away, the house had been surprisingly quiet, he hoped that this call would bring news of her upcoming return. 

“It’s Dr. MacMillan,” the tinny voice came through the line. “Is Dorothy home, Mr. Butler?” 

“Yes, Doctor, she is just out back trying her hand at a bit of gardening in her spare time,” he was taken aback by the very business-like greeting. “I’ll fetch her for you, just a moment, please.” 

“Wait!” She stopped him before he set the receiver down. “I am afraid I’m calling with some upsetting news, Mr. Butler. She will most likely need some of your ever-present strength.” 

“Oh, dear, what’s happened?” 

“It’s Hugh… There was a raid today, and let’s just say that, while our esteemed Victoria Constabulary succeeded in their overall goal, their success was not without consequence.” 

Mr. Butler was instantly worried. “Is he alright?” 

“He’s been admitted to hospital with various injuries and will be here for at least a few days. I’ve been called to leave the morgue in favor of helping out in surgery. I’ll be going in for my next procedure momentarily, but I didn’t want Dot to hear it from a stranger, and I want to make sure she knows he  _ will  _ be alright. I’ve made arrangements with the nursing staff that, even though they are not yet married, Dorothy is to be admitted to see Hugh whenever she wants.” 

Mr. Butler heard someone in the background interrupting the Doctor with an emergency. “Doctor MacMillan, I will inform Dorothy of the incident and accompany her to the hospital. I’ll see that she arrives safely.” 

“You truly are a jewel, Mr. B., I have to go, I’ve got a hemorrhaging patient waiting in the operation theater.” 

~MFMM~

Cec pulled the cab into a parking space as Bert was already opening his door to hand Dorothy from the back seat. Despite none of them being related to Hugh, they were, all four, determined to see the young man and find out the extent of his injuries. The men were willing to wait for as long as it took, for Dorothy’s sake. 

Flanked by Mr. Butler, Cec and Bert, Dorothy tightened her grip on her purse and walked quickly to the entrance of the medical building. Her expression remained strong in the face of the terrible news. She and Hugh had spoken often about the dangers of his job, so she knew it could happen at any time, though  _ knowing  _ imminent danger was always a possibility didn’t make it any easier to  _ accept  _ it’s inevitable occurrence. 

~MFMM~

“Hugh!” Dorothy cried as she rushed to his side after being shown to his room.

“Dottie,” Hugh smiled in relief, turning his attention from his mother to his betrothed. He reached one hand out from beneath his bedspread and took her hand when she neared, the concern was evident in her expression and he wanted to reassure her. “I’m alright, Dottie,” he tried to soothe her through his sleepiness. “Dr. MacMillan said I’m going to heal just fine,” he rubbed his thumb over her hand, hating to see her so scared. “I’m just going to need patience as a patient,” he tried to crack a silly joke in an effort to bring a smile to the lips of his lovely Dottie. 

“You must promise to do  _ everything  _ the doctors tell you to do, Hugh,” she resorted to logic in the face of her fear. “I’ll be sure to bring you healthy food everyday to help you grow strong. Mr. Butler was already planning out meals on the way here.” She sat on the chair at his bedside, still holding his hand firmly. 

“Mr. Butler is here?” He tried to look towards the door, but saw no one else. 

“Yes, he is in the waiting room, with Bert and Cec, they drove me here so I wouldn’t need to wait for the tram.” 

A quiet cough on the opposite side of the bed drew her attention to the other woman in the room. “Oh, Mrs. Collins,” she shot to her feet. “I’m sorry,” she should have noticed the older woman the moment she entered the room, but she didn’t - her sole attention had been on Hugh. 

To Hugh’s delight, she didn’t release his hand, and through his medicine-induced haze, his eyes studied Dot’s profile, causing him to smile goofily. He knew his mother was still unhappy with his choice of fiancee, but in Hugh’s opinion, he had proposed to, and gained the acceptance of, the most wonderful girl in the world.

“We should let Hugh get some sleep,” his mother motioned towards the door, expecting the young woman to excuse herself from her son’s side. “He needs rest to heal.” 

“Yes, he does,” Dot agreed, but re-took her seat, her expression unwavering. “Dr. MacMillan already advised the nursing staff that I was permitted to remain.” 

Hugh’s grin widened. “You’re beautiful, Dottie. You’re beautiful… and lovely... and kind... and…” 

“Hugh!” His mother gasped. “You need to stop talking and rest. I’ll escort Dorothy back to the waiting room.” 

“No,” Dorothy insisted. “I’ll wait a little longer.” 

“We need to let Hugh sleep. And if you remain, he will not rest.” 

Hugh’s eyelids were growing heavy as he continued to stare at his sweetheart, but he responded to his mother’s statement. “I’ll rest better if Dottie is here, Mother.” He smiled lovingly when Dot turned to look at him again. “I love you, Dorothy Williams,” he muttered as his medicine started to work in earnest. 

“I love you, too, Hugh,” Dorothy responded without hesitation. “Sleep. I’ll be right here when you wake,” she promised, not allowing his mother’s blatant disapproval affect her actions. Dorothy reached into her purse and extracted a magazine. “I brought the most recent edition of ‘Motion Pictures Magazine,’ Hugh. There is an excellent article about the making of western movies. I thought you might enjoy it if I read to you.” 

He smiled with his eyes closed and nodded in agreement. “Mm-hmm... Yes, please, that would be nice… Your voice is lovely, Dottie...” 

~MFMM~

“Mr. Butler, really. As much as I appreciate it, you needn’t worry yourself about me. If Miss Fisher returns and learns that you’ve been tending to me in  _ any  _ way, it could cause trouble for you. And I do not wish to be the cause of any difficulties for you.” 

Jack’s voice was weak; his delivery was slow as it took considerable effort to speak in his inability to inhale a full breath. 

“You let  _ me  _ worry about Miss Fisher, Inspector,” Mr. Butler smiled kindly as he poured a cup of Jack’s favorite blend of tea. “Dorothy was bringing a hamper to share with Hugh in the next room, so it wasn’t any trouble to bring you a hearty meal. We’ve prepared soft-food options,  _ and  _ for you,” he dropped his voice conspiratorially, “I’ve made a special crock of my mother’s gratin.” His grin broadened as he stared off into the distance, as if picturing his mother’s expression of approval. “She would be so pleased to know someone enjoys it as much as I.”

Jack tried to smile, but every muscle in his face hurt. His heart ached knowing he shouldn’t accept the offering, but he realized his refusal was futile; Mr. Butler’s cheesy potato dish of deliciousness was easily his favorite sort of comfort food. 

“Mr. B., you are very generous. However I must insist… That food, as mouth-watering as I know it to be, was made with Miss Fisher’s house money…” He inhaled slowly, keeping his breaths shallow. “If she learns that it’s been shared with me, she will resent you and think you a traitor. She was crystal clear in the status of my welcome,  _ or  _ lack thereof as the case may be, at Wardlow; she’s gone well out of her way these past several days to guarantee we wouldn’t bump into each other...” He felt the loss of her friendship much deeper than any of the physical injuries impeding his mobility. “It pains me, because that is  _ not  _ how I wished any of this to turn out… I never meant to hurt her like that… I just want her to be  _ safe _ . Seeing her tied up like that… Seeing what might have happened...” The medication had loosened Jack’s tongue, allowing him to reveal a bit more of himself than he normally would. “She means so much…” He suddenly had a glimpse of clarity, realizing what he was saying and knowing he had to turn it around. “You are all very dear to me, which is why I cannot allow you to jeopardize your own standing in her employ. 

“Well,” Mr. Butler thought quickly. “Today is your lucky day, Inspector. The money for  _ this  _ meal,” he held up the bowl and placed it on Jack’s lap tray, “was not part of the household funds. I made this myself, the expenses are my own. And  _ I  _ wish to give it to  _ you _ .” He knew Jack would see through his lie, but he didn’t care. “Tomorrow I plan to make a chicken pie,  _ again  _ from my own expenses, so be prepared to receive that as well. No arguments, as it is my get-well gift for you, my friend.” 

Jack had neither the energy nor the inclination to argue; Mr. Butler was not to be refused once he set his mind to something. Jack nodded and winced, regretting the movement immediately. “Well, then, my friend,” he eyed the older man sideways and wished he could better express his gratitude. “In that case, I thank you.”

Mr. Butler placed everything Jack would need within an easy arms-reach, knowing the officer’s mobility had been hindered by his extensive injuries. As he arranged the items, he spoke calmly. 

“Constable Collins said you took the brunt of the beatings… He insists that you saved his and Constable Harris’ lives by arriving when you did…” He was careful not to look at Jack as he spoke. “Hugh insists the attack was intended for them, not you…”

Jack didn’t like people thinking him a hero, he did what he had to do. Collins, Harris and Mills were all young, still somewhat green behind the ears even if they were physically strong and experienced boxers - they couldn’t have fought their attackers in their bound conditions. When Jack rushed through the side entrance of the warehouse and saw the assailants beating his men with pipes, he was driven by pure instinct to protect his charges, and that’s precisely what he did, but even then, he wasn’t able to protect everyone. 

“I didn’t find the lads in time, though, for Mills...” He rejected the praise quietly. “I did what any officer would do… And I’d do it all over again if it would bring Mills back...” 

Mr. Butler’s remorseful gaze met Jack’s and he spoke plainly. “It’s impossible to save everyone, Inspector. I know it’s not what you want to hear, but it’s the truth, and I suspect you already know it… If you’ll forgive me for saying so,” Mr. Butler finalized his food spread by placing a napkin over Jack’s chest, which, he knew, was heavily bandaged beneath the layers of his pajama shirt, hospital sheet and blanket. “From my experience,  _ not  _ all officers, regardless if they are officers of the law or military ranks, take their oaths of office with the same gravitas, and  _ very few _ would act as selflessly as you did. Your men are grateful, Inspector. Allow them that gratitude.” 

Jack wasn’t sure what to say. He knew Mr. Butler had been in the military, though he didn’t know the extent of his service. Witnessing the way he carried himself and his ability to handle the occasional unwelcome guest, however, and hearing the sober sincerity in his voice, he suspected the man saw plenty of action. Before he could formulate a response, his former partner’s employee was making his excuse to leave. 

“I’ll return tomorrow to collect the dirty crockery, Inspector, and I’ll expect you to have the appetite to enjoy a chicken pie.” He tilted his head. “Maybe even two pies…”

~MFMM~ 

“Nonsense, Hugh,” Dot busied herself smoothing his blanket and gathering the dishes from their shared lunch. “Miss Phryne sent a telegram that she is extending her stay out of town for at least another week. Although she did not provide her contact details to which I could respond, I have no doubts that she would insist on the same resolution.” She plunked herself into the chair beside his hospital bed. “It’s not like it’s improper; Mr. Butler will be on hand day or night to help you, should you require, you know,” she tipped her head, “masculine assistance.” She folded her hands on her lap. “And this way, we can be sure you are getting three proper meals per day along with all your medicines, and the care you need to heal.” 

“Dottie, my mother won’t have it.” 

“Hugh, you can’t go home. You need looking-after, even Dr. MacMillan said you won’t be up to staying on your own for a few more weeks. Your mother works long hours outside the home. Your sister can’t very well care for you  _ and _ her children, not with your nephews passing bronchitis between each other. This is not only the most logical, but the  _ healthiest  _ option as well.”

Hugh wanted to argue against it, but his sweetheart presented valid arguments and a reasonable solution. “You are sure Miss Fisher wouldn’t mind? And that Mr. Butler doesn’t mind?” 

“Of course I’m sure! Mr. Butler and I discussed the logistics last evening. We already made up the downstairs guest room, so you will be comfortable. All you need now is the discharge order from the physician.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading. I’d love to hear from you. As I said on Chapter 1, I can’t promise to reply right away, but I WILL try! 
> 
> Stay healthy, be kind to one another. 
> 
> peace and love, my friends,   
> ~jazzy


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! I’m glad you are back; I hope it’s because you’re enjoying my story. I’d love to hear from you! xoxo

She breezed through the front door shortly after noon, nearly five weeks after taking an impromptu trip. Her time away had served her well, given her the space she needed to breathe and the peace she needed to think. In an uncharacteristic twist, she had spent most of her evenings quietly, reuniting with her friend after too long apart. Long hours were spent over tea or wine, laughing, crying and simply enjoying one another. Harriet has been surprisingly insightful about some of Phryne’s confusion and concerns, and the Lady Detective was anxious to begin some very important conversations upon her return to Melbourne. 

“Helllooo!” She dropped her purse on the entry table and started tugging off her gloves, one finger at a time. 

“Miss Phryne!” Dot came rushing out. “We didn’t know you were coming home today!” She took Miss Fisher’s gloves and stepped behind her, reaching up to unpin her employer’s cloche. 

“I know I said I would send word of when to expect me, but I took my time coming home… and besides, there was no need to have you and Mr. B make a fuss over my return - it’s just another day!” She was in a delightful mood. “The weather has been beautiful, I kept the Hispano’s roof down, it was  _ glorious _ .” She smiled and leaned in, kissing Dot on her cheek. “I’ve missed you.” 

“We’ve missed you too, Miss.” Dorothy felt nervous, she wished she’d had time to gather her thoughts. 

Phryne noticed that her Companion appeared unusually distracted. “Is everything alright, Dot?” She tilted her head to the side, looking at the younger woman with concern. 

Dorothy took a deep breath and dropped her arms to her sides in resolution. Then she launched, barely breathing between sentences. 

“Oh, Miss! I didn’t have a way to contact you, to ask for permission, but now I’ve done it, so I’ll ask for your forgiveness. If you are unhappy with it, by all means, please dock my salary, I’ve kept a very careful record of  _ every _ penny spent above and beyond the normal household expenses. But I couldn’t,  _ just couldn’t _ , let him go home where he might have needed someone and no one was there! We’ve been ever so careful to ensure that nothing improper could have been suspected, Mr. Butler has been kind, and patient, and has been here the whole time, and when he had to go out to do the household errands, Cec stayed here while Bert drove the cab! I know it was very unconventional and I don’t even want to  _ think  _ about how I’m going to give confession… You see, I’ve neglected it these past two weeks,” she glanced up briefly, “God, forgive me,” then resumed her eager eye contact with Miss Fisher. “But, I needed the time to figure it out, and-“

Phryne blinked slowly and raised her hand. “Wait, stop,” she shook her head, feeling like she had just walked into a different dimension. Her normally-calm-and-patient assistant was all but foaming at the mouth as she tried to explain something about which Phryne had no idea. “Please, Dot,” she placed her hand on Dot’s shoulder and steered her into the parlor. “Please sit and start again.” 

As if by magic, Mr. Butler appeared with a pot of tea and two cups. “Welcome home, Miss,” he smiled warmly. “I thought you ladies might be needing this.” Once the tray was in place on the coffee table, he backed out of the room, closing the doors so they would have privacy. 

Phryne was too confused to even respond to Mr. B’s timely delivery, but stared at the closed double doors before turning back to see Dot pouring tea. Blinking slowly again, she sat on the chaise and eyed her young friend. “Now, Dot, why don’t you start again?” 

Dorothy nodded, realizing how mad she must have sounded, and she restarted, calmly this time. 

“About a week after you left, there was a raid… Things... went wrong.” So focused on her words, she didn’t notice the way her mistress sat straighter upon hearing the opening explanation. She continued. “Something happened and the gang, the targets of the raid, must have found out, because the police were ambushed… Hugh was hurt,” she bit back a sob. 

Even though she knew her beau was safe now, seeing him in that hospital bed had left a very lasting impression. “He spent almost a whole week in hospital, but once the worst was past, he was set to be discharged. His doctors, Dr. MacMillan among them, said he would still require assistance… His mother works many hours outside the home, so if he returned to his house, he would be left alone several hours a day. And his nephews have been recovering from terrible bouts of bronchitis, which has been passed around their family for over a month, so he couldn’t very well go to his sister.” She took a sip of tea. “Mr. Butler and I were discussing the situation and, even though we did not have the ability to contact you, we tried to channel our inner-Miss Fisher, and made arrangements for Hugh to come here. We hoped that you would not be opposed... he has been staying in the downstairs guest room.” 

She looked pleadingly at her employer. “He really hasn’t distracted us from our daily routine and chores, and with you out of town, our workload has been less.” Realizing immediately that statement could be taken as an insult, she rushed to clarify. “That is not to say that your presence results in a heavy workload, I don’t mean to infer anything negative.” She hoped her indirect apology was enough and kept talking. “As I said, I’ve kept a carefully detailed log of our expenses. We did have to get in a little more food than what just Mr. Butler and myself would require, but Hugh insisted on paying for the fresh veg from his own wages, so I used his money to buy the fruit and such…” 

“Dot,” Phryne reached out and placed her hand atop Dorothy’s. “Of course I don’t mind that Hugh stayed! You needn’t have worried about keeping the expense record, and goodness, Hugh  _ did not _ need to give money for food.” She swallowed thickly. “I’m just so sorry that I was not here for you, dear Dot. How horrible for you to go through this! What happened? How is Hugh? Can I see him?” 

Dorothy smiled in relief. “He is on the mend, still using crutches, and of course, he will be happy to see you. He was in the kitchen with us when you arrived. I suspect he is still there with Mr Butler… he is trying to learn how to cook a few simple dishes.” Her smile grew and her cheeks flushed. “Mr. Butler told him that every man should know how to cook basic meals, that it is only right that he help contribute to the household chores once he and I are married…” She gripped her handkerchief and dabbed her eyes. “So you are truly not upset?” 

“Only with myself, for abandoning you in your hour of need, darling. Now,” she pushed to her feet, pulling Dot up as well. “Let’s go out to the kitchen so I can greet our brave Constable. Then I want to hear about what happened.” She swallowed her own panic as she wondered what, if anything, happened to Jack during the raid. 

~MFMM~

“It happened so quickly,” Hugh explained, “that we’re of the opinion they have someone on the inside. They knew we were coming and where we’d be breaching the warehouse.” He sipped his tea and broke off a piece of the scone that Dottie had placed in front of him. Miss Fisher had asked him about the harrowing events that landed him in hospital under the care of, among others, Dr. Elizabeth MacMillan. “Harris, Mills and I were caught  _ completely  _ unawares, Miss. We were outnumbered by two and taken from behind… We were bound, gagged and beaten... From what I understand, the lads at the other points of entry were taken much in the same way…” He lowered his eyes, getting lost in thought and Miss Fisher rested her hand on his shoulder, offering her support. 

Hugh raised his eyes and looked at Dot before turning back to Miss Fisher. “Mills succumbed to his injuries while waiting for surgery…” He sniffed. “Constable Baker, from City East, I’m not sure if you’ve ever met him… He died while he was  _ in _ surgery…” 

“Oh, Hugh,” Phryne felt her stomach bottom out. 

“It could have been me… If the Inspector hadn’t come upon us when he did…” 

“The… Inspector?” Phryne had been diligently avoiding her deep-rooted desire to ask about Jack’s role in the whole matter. “He was the one who found you?” 

Hugh nodded, taking a sip of his tea again and continued as he stared down into the tanic beverage. “He barged into the room, barely pausing before he fired upon the man who was beating Mills… The other four men turned their attention from us and focused on Inspector Robinson, unleashing such... anger… and hatred… the likes of which I’ve never seen… They didn’t need to worry about the three of us - we were bound and barely able to move, so they could put all their energy into taking their revenge out on him… They were growling like animals… And yelling that they’d make an example of the Inspector...” He met Miss Fisher’s pale gaze. “I know something happened between you and the Inspector, Miss, but I won’t pretend to understand… So I don’t know if you want to know any more details…” 

She didn’t trust her voice, but nodded in encouragement, wanting to know as much as possible. 

“His injuries were  _ far  _ worse than ours, Miss, with four-on-one... and those four had pipes and bats. He managed to shoot one more before they wrestled his gun from him, so he single-handedly took down two of our attackers. I think it was that second shot that ultimately got the attention of Sergeant Lewis and three of his Constables; they found us shortly after and took control of the situation.” He raked his hand through his short hair. 

Her eyes flicked between Hugh, Dot and Mr. Butler before settling back on the young man. Finding her voice, she finally asked, “have you seen Jack? Is he… mending well?” She tried, unsuccessfully, to hide the tremor from her voice.

Hugh shook his head. “He wouldn’t see me, or Harris. The only person he would allow in his room, aside from the doctors, was Mr. Butler…” 

Her eyes darted to her houseman, waiting for an update. 

Mr. Butler, met her gaze. “He allowed my entrance to his room only twice. After that, I was met at his door by the head nurse, who informed me that he wished to be left alone… For the  _ remainder  _ of his hospital stay…” 

Just then, Hugh started coughing, causing him to grip his ribs in pain. His medicine was wearing off and reliving the events was taking a toll on his energy. 

“Miss,” Dorothy addressed her employer, “Hugh needs to rest. You’ll excuse me while I get him settled and fetch his medication?” Dorothy wasn’t taking any chances with her Constable’s health, even if it meant cutting off a conversation before it was over. 

“Of course!” Phryne placed her palm over the young man’s hand. “I’m sorry to have put you through this, Hugh, but thank you for sharing.” 

“Of course, Miss Fisher.”

Once they’d left the small kitchen, Phryne turned her attention back to her butler. “How was Jack when you saw him?” 

Mr. Butler shook his head sadly. “He was in a great deal of physical pain... Though, I suspect his emotional pain is far worse. He blames himself for Constable Mills’ death…”

“But he can’t carry that blame on his shoulders! Constable Mills is dead because those men killed him, not because Jack, in any way, failed him…” Phryne instantly jumped to Jack’s defense.

“I know that, and you know that… And I believe the Inspector, deep down, knows it, too. When facing things alone, though, it’s sometimes difficult to remember logic…Sometimes people… go to dark places in their minds.... This is why I was making a point of visiting him… He was,” he looked at his mistress, measuring her emotions and decided to be completely truthful. 

“He was reluctant to see me at first, or to even accept a bowl of gratin, given the recent...  _ falling out  _ that happened between the two of you. He feared that my association with and kindness to him might upset you. If it does,” he tilted his head ever so slightly, “I apologize, but he is a man alone, recovering from a violent physical assault, knowing he lost a man from City South, that City East lost a Constable, and most likely, the Victoria Constabulary has a man on the payroll of the criminal family… I decided to take my chances...” 

He folded his hands and chose his next words carefully, noting that she didn’t appear upset with him for visiting the Detective. 

“On my second and final visit, the Inspector spoke of many regrets… He was quite heavily medicated, and thus,  _ far  _ more loquacious than typical. He spoke of - his words, not mine - his failure as a man, as a husband and his failed marriage, his inability to have protected his men, and finally of his banishment from Wardlow… He said,” Mr. Butler paused, measuring his words as he considered just how much to reveal. “He admitted that, although it would cut him to the core, he would gladly pay the price again if it would keep you from coming to harm, Miss Fisher… He received word from his Sergeant that, from the men they’d successfully captured and imprisoned, the Commissioner had managed to secure a confession. The first man Jack killed, the one who was so brutally beating Constable Mills, had been the same man who ordered his subordinates to bind you and leave you to die with the rising tide…” The older man swallowed thickly. “The Inspector made mention that he would take a thousand beatings like that if he could have prevented you from having to spend a single day at hospital…”

Phryne felt her tears sliding down her cheeks and she didn’t even try to hide them. While she’d been away, she came to terms with Jack’s over-protective nature. In truth, over the course of several heart-to-heart conversations, Harriet had convinced her that it wasn’t so terrible to have someone who actually cared if you live or die… and Phryne realized that her own feelings for Jack ran much deeper than she'd previously allowed herself to believe. She owed Jack a huge apology. But now, he’d had to face the very people who’d captured her, and on hearing Hugh’s tale of the ease with which he and his very capable counterparts were ambushed, she realized just how lucky she was to even be alive… 

“Oh, Mr. Butler… what have I done…?” 

“You’ve had a tiff with the man you love, Miss Fisher.” The words were out of his mouth before he knew it, and once they were out in the universe, there was no taking them back. 

“I-“ she nearly choked. “I don’t love Jack… We are colleagues, friends… Occasionally partners…”

“Miss Fisher…” His eyebrow arched high.

She kept talking. “We don’t always see eye-to-eye because he is so bull-headed and won’t listen to even the most reasonable explanations…” She knew the argument was counterproductive; she had  _ just  _ reminded herself that she wanted to reconcile with the man in question and here she was, pushing him away when he wasn’t even present to defend himself. But,  **_love_ ** ? No. She did not permit herself to fall in love. At any rate, the Inspector was not the least bit interested in her, romantically-speaking... 

“That’s because he, too, is in love… with you.”

“No.” It’s not true. It can’t be true! To be in love would mean losing herself and Phryne Fisher would not be lost again…  _ ever _ . 

Mr. Butler knew he had better stop before he well and truly talked himself out of a job. He reached across the table and picked up Hugh’s empty tea cup and scone plate, moving over to the sink. “Then, once again, I ask for your forgiveness, Miss Fisher… I must have misinterpreted the chemistry between you and the Inspector.” He kept his back to her, silently willing the stubborn woman to realize the truth that they all knew - the partners were in love with each other! Jack all but admitted to it in his medicated state at the hospital, so all that was left was for Miss Fisher to find the truth inside herself. Then, perhaps, the two of them could act on their feelings. He sighed silently - waiting for that to happen… Well, as Dot once wisely declared,  _ we could all die waiting for that to happen! _

Phryne finished her tea in contemplative thought. Oh, of course she  _ cared _ for Jack, there was no real doubt about that… She was certain, too, that he was fond of her, if his gazes and over-protection tendencies were any indication… But  _ in love? _ No. That’s nonsense. 

Dorothy came bustling back into the kitchen. “I’m sorry, Miss Phryne! I didn’t ask about your trip. Did you have a wonderful time?” 

Phryne smiled absently at her assistant. “I did, thank you Dot. Time away was just what I needed.” 

Dot was happy for her mistress. “That’s good news, Miss, I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. I know I was pushy about accompanying you before you left... In the end, you were right to have me stay here. If I had gone with you, I wouldn’t have known about Hugh, much less been able to help him in his recovery.” She folded her hands. “I’m sure his mother would have seen to his health just fine, but she certainly wouldn’t have willingly contacted me…” She inhaled slowly. “I can’t imagine how Constable Mills’ sweetheart feels, since he passed away. From what I understand, she was on holiday visiting relatives up in Perth when it happened, she didn’t even have the opportunity to see him the whole week leading up to the raid… I know if I was away, I would have felt terrible…”

Phryne swallowed hard. Jack was badly injured and she hadn’t even been aware until just moments ago… They’d had a fight the week she left town and currently he had no idea that she had forgiven him and wanted to pick up where they left off, hopefully with their partnership and friendship intact. If they hadn't fought, even if she had gone away, her household would have contacted her - as it was, when she stormed out of town in anger, she left even her closest friends and adopted family hanging high and dry, without the means to reach her. All because of her haste… If she hadn’t ordered the Inspector out of her home, never to be invited back, her butler and assistant would have fought harder to be involved in his recovery; he may have even taken up residence in her upstairs guest room… 

From the sounds of his injuries, they were severe, and at the mere notion that he could have died, and she might never have known… He might have been killed thinking he was alone in the world, with no one who cared for his well-being… thinking no one loved him. 

_ Loved him?  _

_ Where did that come from? _ She felt a swell of heat flood her chest at the complicated, yet simple idea of loving Jack Robinson. It wasn’t the panic that she would have expected, and it moved through her body like a welcome friend, and the fact that Jack was left to suffer alone… assuming that she didn’t care (if he was thinking of her at all), laying in a lonely hospital room with no visitors, was too much. 

“You must be starved, Miss Phryne, shall I prepare lunch for you now? When did you last eat?” Dorothy pushed up from the table, brushing her hands down her apron. 

Phryne didn’t hear the question, her thoughts were rioting in her head.  _ Oh my God, _ she thought,  _ I am in love with Jack Robinson… _

“Yes, Miss,” Dorothy responded, bending over to pull a mixing bowl from a cupboard. “We know.” 

Phryne’s eyes widened and darted to Dot’s knowing grin. “I said that out loud?”

“You did.”

“I  _ am  _ starved,” Phryne finally caught up with the conversation. “I haven’t eaten since mid-day yesterday, I’d been enjoying the drive and anxious to get home… But, pack it to go, if you would, please.” 

~MFMM~

She swept into South Melbourne Medical shortly after arriving home, a swirl of feathers and silk on her wake. Mr. Butler had already given her Jack’s room number, so there was no need to stop by the desk, which had a ridiculously long line, anyway. Pausing only briefly, to straighten her cloche and smooth her dress, she hitched the lunch hamper up to her elbow and pushed open his door. 

“Jack, I have it on good authority that you’re in need of a hearty, healthy meal…” She stopped in her tracks as a pair of dark brown eyes opened from beneath a heavily bandaged head. “Oh… I’m so sorry,” she tucked her hair behind one ear. “I must have the wrong room…” The bandaged head barely nodded as the eyes began closing again and she quietly backed out from the room, remorseful for interrupting the stranger’s sleep. 

“Can I help you?!” A strong, unforgiving voice startled her from behind. 

Phryne spun on her heel and was face-to-face with an angry head nurse, a formidable opponent, as she knew well from previous encounters in the ward. If Jack wasn’t so keen to get conked on the head so often, the Honorable Phryne Fisher wouldn’t find herself as a guest at the hospital so often… 

“Ah, Nurse Hatchet,” she bit her lip. 

“It’s Nurse  _ Catch, _ as you well know  _ Miss Fisher _ …” She was a broad woman, easily blocking Phryne’s escape route by placing her hands on her sizable hips. “Why are you disturbing my patient? What business do you have here?”

“Oh, I must have just gotten the room number wrong. Perhaps you can point me in the right direction,” she smiled sweetly. “I understand Detective Inspector Jack Robinson is in this ward - you know him, I’m sure?” 

“I know him,” Catch nodded. “He’s gone.”

“W-what do you mean? He was admitted a couple weeks ago… after a raid-gone-wrong? Considerable injuries that were surely reason enough for him to remain…”

“I  _ said _ , he’s gone. Now,” she turned sideways to motion Phryne away, “you must leave, you’re causing a disruption.” 

“But where has he gone? Who picked him up?”

“All I know is I was here and he was having a bad day, coughing blood, popping stitches, and the next day his bed was stripped and we were prepping it for that patient in there… If I chased up every patient who ever disappeared, I’d never have time to do my own rounds. And if I did that chasing, half the time their trail would lead me to the morgue, anyway…” Nurse Catch held a particular dislike for the woman standing in her wing; she liked to flaunt her wealth and look down her nose at the working class. The angry nurse never did understand why the quiet Detective put up with her visits when he was under treatment. “Now, if you’ll go, I’ll see to that patient you woke and ensure he’s not been troubled by your intrusion.” 

Phryne’s jaw was slack. To the morgue? Does that mean the nurse doesn’t know which patients die and which patients were simply discharged? What a horrible woman, she thought as she slowly walked away from the room, deciding to have a word with her Aunt Prudence about the hospital staff. 

Pausing at the reception desk on her way out, now pleasantly empty of visitors, she smiled at the young girl behind the counter. 

“Excuse me, might you have any information about Detective Inspector Jack Robinson? He was brought in a couple weeks ago, just after a raid, seriously injured?” 

The girl paled. “Was he that copper what died upstairs? They said he was beaten by a bunch’a thugs… He was a handsome bloke, too, from what they say… Sad what happened… Yeah, I think that was ‘im, Robinson, you said, yeah?” 

Before she could logically process the girls diatribe, the world around her went black and Phryne collapsed to the floor. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t throw things at me, my reaction time is quite slow….   
> Thanks for supporting amateur writers; we don’t gain anything from sharing our work aside from the satisfaction that someone out there is enjoying the words we string together.  
> Be patient with each other, we are all under stressful conditions in the world 
> 
> peace and love, my friends,   
> ~jazzy


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! I hope you don’t hate me for the ending of the last chapter…   
>  (Still no Beta - sorry for my errors)

“ _ Must _ you make a grand entrance  _ everywhere  _ you go?” Mac’s deadpan voice invaded her ears as the strong odor of smelling salts registered in her brain. Not one to waste time, Mac launched straight into her interrogation. “I’ve never known you to faint, Phryne Fisher. Are you feeling ill? When’s the last time you ate?” She studied Phryne’s dazed expression as she helped her sit upright.

Phryne’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “Mac?” She pushed Mac’s hand away, not wanting help. “Am I… dead?”

“Of course you’re not dead, I was just coming in to do my rounds when I saw you collapse...” Mac stood upright, hands on her hips as she surveyed the scene. “Though, once Dot gets a look at the mess you’ve made of her prized wicker basket,  _ and  _ your dress, you might  _ wish  _ you were dead…” 

Blinking away the rest of her blurriness, Phryne pushed her hair back and looked down at her dress. Covered in dark gravy from Mr. Butler’s roast, she looked to her side, noting the now-smashed lunch hamper and broken crockery. To many people, Dot appeared a timid, sweet thing, but when faced with an unnecessary mess (especially one that could have been avoided) _ ,  _ that  _ sweet-thing  _ possessed the ability to frighten even the hardest of men with little more than a harsh glare.... 

“Oh, my…” she shook her head and tugged at her ruined skirt. “I’m not even going to ask her to repair it… I’ll just bin it the minute I get home and claim I’ve lost the basket…”

“Speaking of home, when did you get back?” 

“Just a couple hours ago.” Phryne accepted Mac’s hand and stood on shaky legs, noting the sheepish look from the girl behind reception. “I got home and Hugh told me about the raid… about Jack… and now…” She felt a tear slip. “And now I’ve just learned that Jack’s dead…” She was sad, and numb, and overwhelmed by a flood of emotions she didn’t fully understand. 

“Yes,” Mac said, a gentle hand on her friend's arm to usher her towards a seat, aiming a withering glare at the inexperienced receptionist over her shoulder. “About that…”

~MFMM~ 

Mac set the record straight for the Lady Detective, correcting the story relayed by the thoughtless girl at the front hall. It was  _ Constable Mills _ who had lost his life, not Jack. As of four days ago, Jack was still upstairs receiving the nursing care necessary for his injuries and then, quite against doctor’s orders, he decided he’d had enough and checked himself out. 

“ _ You let him check himself out!? _ ”

Mac’s eyebrows inched towards her hairline. “I didn’t  _ let  _ him do anything, Phryne! You weren’t exaggerating when you said he was stubborn… I tried to deter his decision with stories of worst-case-scenarios, all of which fell on deaf ears… Ultimately I made him sign a waiver, holding the hospital harmless of any complications that might arise as a result of abandoning his care, hoping it would make him realize the seriousness of his injuries… He happily signed it and sent me packing with barely a grunt of appreciation.” Mac cocked an eyebrow. “For a legendarily patient man, he’s a horribly  _ impatient _ patient…”

“Where did he go?” 

“I don’t know. I asked him if I could call in on him, especially given that he was hardly able to maneuver around his little hospital room, let alone navigate an entire bungalow to cook and care for himself…” She shrugged and folded her hands on her lap. “He’d have none of it, but promised to telephone should he need medical assistance... He  _ did  _ accept some medicine that I sent him away with, hopefully he’s taking it according to my instructions, but somehow I doubt it…” 

“Did he go home? Do you have his address?” 

Mac was surprised. “You mean after all this time, you don’t know where the man  _ lives?! _ Phryne Fisher, as I live and breathe, you are a constant surprise…” Mac narrowed her eyes suddenly. “Wait a minute… Why are  _ you  _ here? What happened to never wanting to see him again?” 

Raising her chin and nose into the air with as much dignity as possible while sitting in a hospital waiting room in a torn skirt and gravy-covered-bodice, gratin potatoes stuck in her cloche and hair... She looked away from her oldest friend. “Sometimes a woman changes her mind… it’s not all that unusual, after all… If anyone would understand that, I’d think you would...” 

~MFMM~

Phryne successfully made it to her room and changed clothes without Dot’s knowledge. Floating back downstairs, she saw Hugh sitting in the parlor reading a book. 

“Hugh,” her sing-song tone was clear and visibly startled him.

“Yes, Miss,” he pushed to stand slowly. “I’m sorry, I can sit and read in the guest room. I’m sorry.” Hugh had gotten used to being able to sit in the comfort of the warm living room during his convalescence, and he hadn’t thought about being in the way once Miss Fisher had returned. 

“Nonsense, Hugh!” She waved for him to sit back down. “I just wanted to ask you a question.” 

“Oh, yes, of course, Miss.”

“I went to see the Inspector today, but it seems he’s signed himself out of hospital.”

Hugh’s eyes flared wide. “Signed himself out? The Inspector was in  _ far  _ worse shape than either Harris or me… he shouldn’t have done that…” Hugh seemed to come to his senses and realized he shouldn’t voice such an opinion. “Though, it’s really none of my business, my apologies…” 

“Don’t apologize. I am of the same opinion, as was Mac. But I wonder if you know his address?” 

“Oh… n-no, Miss Fisher. The Inspector keeps himself to himself, he doesn’t socialize outside of work and has never had occasion to ask me to his home. In fact, until you and he started working together, I’d never seen him outside of working hours…” He tilted his head. “I mean no offense but I’m surprised you don’t know where he lives… I mean, as often as the two of you share meals and drinks, I would have expected you to know his address by now…” The medicine was really doing a job on his brain-to-mouth filter, under normal circumstances, he never would have alluded to knowing the frequency of his boss’s many visits to Wardlow. “Again, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed…”

Phryne found his blush charming but before she could comment further on their conversation, Mr. Butler interrupted her quietly from behind. 

“Pardon me, Miss, but are you quite alright?” 

She turned in place and saw her houseman holding the remains of the spoiled lunch he had so carefully packed, the lid from the picnic hamper hanging precariously from one corner...

“Oh... yes,” she smiled in apology and was about to blame a careless nurse, (after all it  _ was  _ that silly girl’s fault that she fell faint upon hearing that Jack had passed!) 

As she opened her mouth to speak, a shriek echoed down the staircase and Dorothy came rushing down, the remnants of Phryne’s morning attire held out at arms length. “What in heaven’s name…” she pinned Miss Phryne with a level gaze. The young woman was unable to finish her question when she saw the poor-excuse-for-a-basket on display in Mr. Butler’s arms, barely recognizable as her  _ favorite  _ hamper. Another shocked yelp caused her normally calm eyes to harden and the men in the room shivered involuntarily. 

Seeing there would be no escaping this, Phryne decided to simply  _ delay _ it, for the good of her mission. 

“Look at the time! I have to go, I’ll be late!” She was already out the front door, purse in one hand and hat on the other, both hastily snagged from the entry-way table. Calling over her shoulder, she bid farewell, promising to be home for a late dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> peace and love, my friends  
> ~jazzy


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back!   
> I hope you're here because you're enjoying the tale!

An hour later, after having done more than a fair bit of nosing-around, the Honorable Phryne Fisher was driving down a quiet residential street on the outskirts of Richmond. The homes were of moderate size and well kept, it was clear the residents took pride in their outward appearances. The Hispano Suiza slowed to a stop outside a particularly attractive bungalow, the flowering plants and shrubs contained within the low-walled fence made it obvious that the care-taker loved his garden. Her heart filled with relief, confident that her research had given her the results she sought - this  _ must  _ be Jack’s house…

Walking slowly through the gate, her eyes scanned each side of the sidewalk as she approached the front door. She swallowed the anxiety that was threatening to overwhelm her ever-present confidence - the uncertainty of how her unannounced  _ (and uninvited) _ visit would be received was bubbling just below the surface. 

Phryne Fisher didn’t like being wrong and she rarely apologized for anything she did, but she’d been rash and unreasonable in her haste to unceremoniously banish Jack from her life. If anything, her time away had helped her realize how much she cared, even if she hadn’t, before that very afternoon, been able to recognize the full depth of her feelings. She could only hope that Jack would be forgiving. Mounting the stairs, she took a final deep breath and raised her hand, poised to knock three times upon the sage green door. 

~MFMM~

His day had started much as they’d been starting for the past week. He woke slowly and before even rising from bed, he methodically stretched the muscles and joints that were growing stiff and weak from disuse. It was disturbing, really, what a difference a few weeks of inactivity made on his body’s flexibility, and the medication his body required to sleep at night made it nearly impossible to wake as early as he liked. He missed riding his bicycle and exercising in the gym. The bright spot of his week was that he’d managed to venture out into his garden the day before, tending to some much-needed weed-thinning. Though his broken bones would take a while to heal, as would the emotional scarring of losing one of his Constables, he saw the prior day as an accomplishment. His plan for the following day was to target the  _ back  _ garden, but he needed a day of rest in between. He knew he wouldn’t be able to complete the work in a single afternoon; the back had been far more neglected in recent months than his front had been… 

The hours he used to leisurely spend in the backyard had been, for some time now, replaced by taking dinner and drinks with a certain Lady Detective. He knew, however, those days were over, so it would behoove him to move on and get back to a normal routine and solitary existence. He’d been satisfied with his life before Miss Fisher started to intrude on his cases, he would be, once again, happy enough when his body healed to a satisfactory level so he could return to work. In the back of his mind, he wondered what his new reality might look like. 

When Miss Fisher first appeared in his life, he had been preparing for the impending divorce that would forever mark him a failure as a husband and a man. Then, this ball of infallible energy dressed in furs, feathers and ridiculously expensive shoes burst into the scene tossing his quiet, neat, and orderly life into upheaval. The worst of it was, he allowed her to breach his carefully constructed armor. She’d poked and prodded often enough that he let his guard down, foolishly allowing her to see his faults and weaknesses. Ultimately it was those weaknesses that resulted in his unexpected ejection from her orbit and he had only himself to blame. He never should have grown attached to someone so far out of his league, so far beyond his reach. 

He hadn’t meant to yell that evening. Hell, she had,  _ only that day, _ been released from hospital and transported home by her communist cabbies. He should have been relieved to know she’d been given a clean bill of health, and deep down he was, but his emotions had gotten the better of him. 

Visions of finding her left to die - bound and gagged, her fancy clothing shredded, leaving her indecently exposed, her pale eyes filling with relief when she saw him - those memories flooded his mind when he saw her sitting in her parlor as if nothing had ever happened. Perhaps if she hadn’t been so cavalier about her predicament, so nonchalant about the true danger in which she’d placed herself against his specific and expressed instructions regarding his case, he wouldn't have lost his temper. 

But she  _ had  _ been cavalier - brushing his concerns aside as if they didn’t matter, rolling her pretty eyes at his lecture about the dangerous nature of the criminal Wiggins family - he just couldn’t hold it in any longer and he let loose his frustrations, and his fears, and his wishes for her to  _ just once _ take more care. Perhaps the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back was when he reminded her that she had  _ more  _ than herself to think about… She had Jane, Dorothy and the rest of her rag-tag family she’d formed in Melbourne. 

_ Instead _ , however, all she  _ heard  _ in his diatribe was disbelief that she could defend herself, that she was selfish, that he didn’t think she was fit to be a foster parent, that she did things to purposely defy  _ him _ just because she could. None of those things were true, he hadn’t said anything of the sort, but what he said and what she heard didn’t line up, and in the end, he’d been tossed out on his arse. 

Probably for the better, he repeated to himself, a mantra he’d been silently chanting for weeks. If they continued to work side-by-side, he was likely to fall irrevocably in love with her, as opposed to the ‘fondness’ he had convinced himself was the extent of his true feelings. Besides, she would never have taken him seriously if he had acted on any of his impulses… She was not the kind of woman who would want an arrangement of any permanence and he always knew he couldn’t be one of many. They were, ultimately, never meant to be. 

He moved slowly down the hall, his single crutch clicking on the hardwood floor as he moved. The bulk of his quiet day had been spent reading his favorite Zane Gray. As much as he enjoyed Gray’s novels of the great American West,  _ The Last of the Plainsmen _ was a biographical account of Buffalo Jones and never failed to trigger Jack’s deeply-repressed thirst for adventure. When he was a young man, he used to envision himself on journeys to exotic lands, discovering new worlds, getting his fill of local cuisine and immersing himself in unknown cultures. Then life happened - a career in the Victoria Constabulary promised a relatively stable livelihood, he met and married Rosie, shipped out to war and after four grueling years, came home broken, no longer entertaining thoughts of traveling the world for the sheer enjoyment of it. All Jack wanted to do after surviving the trenches was bury himself in work, strive to make the streets of his beloved Melbourne safer, and try to atone for the uncountable numbers of lives he took in an effort to save his own. 

His failings had been the downfall of his marriage. He no longer desired to rise through the ranks of the police force and his modest existence (and face it, his median salary) was not enough to keep Rosie’s affections for him alive. So, when she finally announced her intention to leave, he didn’t try to stop her - in fact, he helped her pack her belongings - and eventually settled in for a life of solitude, ignoring the sideways glances and hushed whispers about the  _ ‘divorced  _ Detective Inspector.’ 

Just when he’d become comfortable with his meager existence, Phryne Fisher floated into his world on a cloud of French perfume and reignited his desire for adventure, breathing life and color back into his solemn, black-and-white world. She stirred in him, deep feelings that he’d long ago forgotten and  _ dammit _ , she made him fall in love with her. He gritted his teeth as he fought against admitting it to himself, but he knew in his heart that it was the truth, no matter how often he tried to deny it. His best bet, at this point, was to simply move on, allow his body the time it needed to mend, and to use this forced leave of absence as an opportunity to heal his raw, battered emotions. 

He ambled slowly through his cozy parlor and stood before his upright piano. He couldn’t remember the last time he had played - it had been months and months… It seemed that he’d lost his passion for music when he lost his passion for life. When he was laid up in the hospital the previous weeks, he promised himself that he’d make more of an effort to find himself again - to do the things he used to love, to find comfort in his own company. To rediscover the talents he so rarely shared with anyone. 

Resting his crutch against the wall, he sat on the bench, the long-forgotten creaks of the aged wooden legs welcoming his return like an old friend. He ran his fingers over the keys with care, just feeling the cool ivory beneath his touch and he couldn’t help but smile. 

“Hello, again,” he said quietly, not at all self-conscious about talking to an inanimate object. “I’m sorry I’ve neglected you. I’ll do my best to not repeat the offense…”

With the ease of a skilled, professional musician, his fingers glided across the sea of black and white, and somewhere on the back of his mind he realized that a black-and-white world  _ could _ still be beautiful, there was no need for it to be dull and boring simply because it lacked vibrancy. Though he hadn’t sat to play for longer than he cared to remember, it all came back to him, much like riding a bicycle. 

The soft, retrospective strains of ‘Clair de Lune’ filled his room with its haunting mysteries. He’d learned Debussy’s entire  **Suite Bergamasque** when he was at the Academy in ‘08, and like so many others, he’d been instantly drawn into the tragically beautiful third movement with its ambiguity and dark undertones. He’d attended a mate’s wedding in 1910 and was surprised that the bride had selected the piece as her entrance melody… Jack’s interpretation of the composition had never been particularly romantic; to Jack it was meant to be pondered over, to be the background of one’s mind when one was attempting to identify the sources of their fears, of their regrets. It was a contemplative stroll through the dark, always seeking something Jack couldn’t identify, and almost _ , but never quite reaching _ the light… 

He closed his eyes as he played, losing himself in the feel - the physical feel of the instrument and the emotional feel of the melody - and somehow he knew that he was going to be alright. 

Eventually. 

_ Eventually _ , he might even be able to see the lovely face of one Honorable Phryne Fisher once again and not experience the ache of loss and unrequited love. 

~MFMM~

Phryne’s fist froze mid-air, no more than an inch from making contact with the door. The haunting melody of Debussy drifted out from somewhere behind the door, a little slower than a normal recording would be, some of the pitches not quite as sharp as they should be, and she knew it was no phonograph… Someone inside was playing a piano and it caused her heart to clench wondering what she would say or do if Jack wasn’t alone. After all, it was entirely possible that Jack had checked himself out of hospital because he had someone perfectly capable of helping care for him at home, someone who was cooking for him, perhaps keeping him entertained during his convalescence. 

She heard him cough and the music stopped abruptly, in time with the interruption, and she quickly realized that he was the one playing the music. The Lady Detective had seen the way he often admired her baby grand, the way he let his fingers follow the curving edge when he crossed the room towards the window seat he often occupied beside her, the way his eyes lingered on it from his perch at her mantle. He’d never indicated that he played, however, never asked to test it out as so many musicians had done while sitting in her parlor. She only dabbled, at best, but was never shy about inviting any capable and willing guest, (men, in particular), to sit on her bench and serenade her. Had she known that Jack was so accomplished on the ivories, she would have encouraged him long ago to make himself comfortable and to share his talent. 

The sudden awareness was a stark reminder of just how much she  _ didn’t  _ know about Jack Robinson. She allowed her hand to fall back to her side and once his coughing fit had ceased, the melody resumed where he’d left off and she turned to lean against the doorframe so she could listen a little longer. The fact that Jack had never offered up his fondness for playing made her wonder what else he might have held back from her, and she felt bad that, in all the hours spent in her parlor playing draughts or pouring over cocktails, she’d never prodded him about his interests, likes and dislikes. 

They shared stories, to be sure, about their childhood experiences growing up in the suburbs of Melbourne; she’d told him of her adventures with Janey in their bathtub-pirate-ship and romps along the foreshore. She’d clued him in on some of the hard times they’d faced with a drunkard for a father and a painfully submissive woman as a mother, and of going to be hungry more often than not. 

They shared a love of literature, and of course, they discussed current events and modern scientific discoveries, especially in the fields of investigations and the emerging forensic applications for uncovering the truth. He knew of her adoration of jazz and for dancing, her hobbies of flying and racing fast cars, her beliefs in independence and self-sufficiency. He knew of her regrets and self-imposed blame of losing Janey... the horrors she’d seen as a field nurse and ambulance driver… the abusive relationship that had nearly killed her. She never hid the fact that she enjoyed the company of men or that she supported the rights of those individuals with inclinations different than her own. 

She, on the other hand, had only garnered a glimpse here and there of his love of gardening and his aversion to the theater. He had once regaled her with recollections of his first bicycle and of a childhood fantasy of going walkabout into the bush. He mentioned only once, a dream of racing in the Tour de France… Her own observations told her that he shouldered the blame of his dissolved marriage, though she suspected the truth was more of a mutual decision, given the civility the ex-spouses demonstrated towards one another. Besides their shared interests and the few memories to which he’d granted her access, she knew very little about Jack Robinson-the man.

He knew so much more about her than she of him - and she felt ashamed that she’d never asked - he must think her selfish and self-centered, and, in retrospect, she wouldn’t blame him. 

When the song came to an end, she took a slow breath, he played beautifully and she hoped that her intrusion on his recovery wouldn’t be unwelcome. Smoothing her hands down her skirt once more, she pushed upright and turned back to the door and knocked, before he started to play again, before she lost her nerve again. 

~MFMM~

Just as Jack’s fingers were poised to begin Pachelbel, a knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. His hands froze in place and he blinked slowly, wondering if he could ignore whoever it was. But then he thought about Mrs. Hathoway from across the street; she’d greeted him the day before when he was in the front garden and commented on how terrible he looked, and how awful it was what happened to that poor Constable. With a wink, she promised to pop over one day soon with a batch of fresh biscuits that were certain to aid in his recovery. 

The promise of possible sweets that he didn’t have to bake himself was motivation enough to get his body up and moving, albeit slow as molasses. Another knock sounded, a little more timid and, as he grabbed his crutch from its resting spot, he called out hoarsely that he would be there momentarily. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that’s why the story had to take place before Dead Air, since Phryne didn’t know Jack could play the piano. Poor Jack, though.... He was so looking forward to some biscuits...


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome Back!  
> Hmmm.... I wonder how Jack will react to his visitor.... At the same time, I am curious about Phryne's reaction to Jack walking with a crutch... I guess we will have to find out together! Read on!

When he unlocked and opened the door, his greeting died in his throat at the vision on his porch. Instead of an elderly neighbor bearing a plate of biscuits, none other than the object of his near-constant distraction was standing before him, smiling awkwardly. 

Phryne felt her smile falter; Jack’s face showed evidence of healing cuts and bruises. The discoloration that would have been dark black and blue shortly after the attack was mostly faded to purples and yellows. The multiple cuts below his left eye and along his jawline indicated his attacker was right-handed and hadn't been shy at all in his aggression against the Detective Inspector. He was leaning heavily to one side and a quick flick of her eyes told her he was leaning on a crutch and favoring his left side considerably. His hair was free of its typical pomade, a riot of curls that few would ever suspect, and he was dressed casually in a soft collarless shirt that was only partly buttoned up, and an old pair of well-worn canvas pants. Her quick glimpse told her that his feet were bare and, in an almost self-conscious move, his free hand moved to the front of his shirt, whether to ensure it’s closure or to press against an injury, she didn’t know. 

She couldn’t read his expression, which worried her. Typically, even when they were in disagreement about something, she could still interpret his feelings. When he’d opened the door, however, his face morphed into a blank mask, as if he had been expecting someone and was less than happy to see that it was, instead, his estranged partner standing there. 

“Jack,” she finally uttered, which seemed to have stirred him from his stupor.

“Miss,” he cleared his throat, “Miss Fisher… This is…. Unexpected.” 

She shifted uncomfortably. “I just… I heard about what happened and -” 

“What can I do for you?” He interrupted. “If it’s case information or assistance you need, you will be best served visiting the station, I’m off duty… For the next several weeks, at least…”

“No, Jack, that’s not… I mean…” Her mind went blank, the little speech she’d mentally planned on her way over had vanished as if it never even existed. He looked so tired, in so much pain… He had lost weight, indicating that he hadn’t been eating well.

“Miss Fisher,” Jack shifted his stance, the pressure on his ribs as he stood made it uncomfortable to remain still. “As you can see, I’m not in any condition for company, so if you’ll be so kind as to let me get back to my solitude,” he motioned towards her car, “I’ll bid you a good day.” 

He started to back away from the open door, intent on closing it. He was uninterested in engaging in any sort of argument, and he couldn’t understand why she was there after making it crystal clear that he wasn’t a welcome presence in her life. If she wanted access to police information, she was going to have to sidle up to some other copper, some other poor sod who would surely fall under her spell. 

Stunned, Phryne only registered her dismissal as the door started to close and without forethought, she hand darted through the opening just in time. 

“Jack, wait! Please,” she stepped closer to the opening, not wanting to push against the door lest she knock him off balance on the other side. “I was hoping to… to see you…” 

“Well, now you’ve seen me,” he grunted, “satisfied?” He was suddenly tired and bitter, the ugly memory of their fight nearly five weeks earlier was forming itself into a ball of fire in his gut. 

“No. I mean... I was hoping to  _ talk _ , too…” She wouldn’t be deterred. She was deserving of his anger, of his harsh reaction, but she knew that if they were going to move past their fight, (and she really hoped they could), they’d need to talk. “I - I would really like it if… if we can talk…” 

“Miss Fisher,” he sighed. “I am tired, and achy, and frankly, I don’t have much to say. Besides, I think you said plenty the last time we spoke…” 

She noticed his grip on the door had loosened and she took the opportunity to push it gently. “Jack,  _ please… _ If you’ve nothing to say, will you at least listen to what I have?” Phryne Fisher was not one to beg, she took great satisfaction in knowing that she answered to no one and for years had been responsible only to herself. Jack was different from all others, though, and she found herself willing to risk her pride.

His eyes blinked slowly. He wanted to refuse her, he so desperately wished he could simply ignore the plea and turn her away… Being an emotionally-vested partner in their failed professional relationship, however, he couldn’t deny the request. With resignation, he shuffled backwards and opened the door wide enough for her to enter.

Stepping through the gap, she breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Jack,” her voice quivered with suppressed emotion. She followed his motion into the front room and her eyes were immediately drawn to the upright piano. Pausing, she glanced over her shoulder as Jack limped into the room as well. 

“I never knew you played, Jack. I heard music when I was approaching your front door… It took a moment for me to realize it wasn’t a recording...” 

“Uhh, yes,” he acknowledged. “I didn’t realize the sound carried well enough to be heard out front… I’ll have to consider relocating it to another room…” 

Her eyebrows shot to her hairline and she spun around fully. “No, you mustn't! It was lovely to hear; you are very talented, Jack!” She tilted her head sideways and regarded him kindly, her voice growing soft. “Why have you never offered to play at Wardlow?” 

Jack wasn’t sure how to accept the compliment; he was not accustomed to others hearing him play anymore - he hadn’t even played for Rosie after coming home from the war. His focus moved silently from Miss Fisher to the instrument in question. 

Sure, there had been a time when he enjoyed the intimate audience of a lovely lady. He’d turned to his music more than once when he was a younger lad, depending on it to help woo a young woman or two… But once he’d played for Rosie, she became the last person in Melbourne to hear him play. They’d fallen in love, it was an unlikely and whirlwind romance - a young, eager cadet and the loveliest girl he’d ever met - the daughter of his boss. 

He had long ago lost count of the number of evenings he would sit at the Sanderson’s piano when he called to court Rosie. When they’d first married, barely an evening would pass when he wouldn’t play and she would sidle up alongside him on the piano bench, rest her head on his shoulder and hum along. He often encouraged her to sing, he thought she had a sweet voice, but she was never confident enough to vocalize. Whenever he would make the suggestion, she would simply giggle demurely and shove his shoulder lovingly. Their interactions on the piano bench almost always ended with kisses that ultimately led to something much more intimate, and much more enjoyable. 

All that ended, however, when he was shipped off to France. And when he returned, he couldn’t bring himself to sit at the keyboard; it brought back too many memories of the beat up old piano in the recovery room at the military hospital, the acrid scent of blood and antiseptic, the cries he had hoped in vain the music would drown out. It wasn’t until months after Rosie had packed her last suitcase and moved in with her sister that Jack could bring himself to sit back down and run his fingers over the cool ivory, his muscle memory picking up as if he hadn’t stopped at all… 

“Jack?” Phryne interrupted his thoughts quietly, stepping closer. “Where did you go just now?”

He didn’t want to answer her question, nor did he want to discuss his musical hobby. 

“How did you find my home, Miss Fisher?” He turned his head and looked directly at her, his face, once again, an unreadable mask. “Who provided you with my address?” 

Phryne was taken back by the pointed questions, but recognized them for what they were - deflection. So, she played her part by raising her chin defiantly. 

“You know, I  _ am _ a private detective, Jack. I do have my ways…” She had intended her retort to come out playful, but it, instead, sounded defensive.

He blinked slowly, his brow wrinkling for a split second. “Yes, of course.” He turned, leaning heavily on his crutch and made his way over to his chair. “You’ll forgive me,” he assumed without question, “I need to get off my leg.” He sat heavily and motioned to the chair nearest where she stood, which was, incidentally, the seat  _ furthest _ from his current location. “What was it that you wanted to say, Miss Fisher?” 

She ignored the indication and stepped closer, opting for the seat directly opposite his chair, and sat on the edge of the cushion slowly. She really wasn’t certain what she wanted to say, all her thoughts had fled her mind when she saw his pain, his healing injuries, and she found herself, quite uncharacteristically, at a loss for words. 

“I,” she started, still unsure of the direction she wished to take their conversation. “I saw Hugh… and I went to hospital to see you…” 

“Well, obviously you figured out that I wasn’t there…”

“Yes,” she looked down at her hands where they rested on her lap, tugging at a thread absently. “Hugh told me about the raid, and about… the… outcome…” She looked back up, his expression was hard. “Jack, I’m so sorry about Constable Mills… It must have been... terrible…” She didn’t try to stop her tears from welling. 

He swallowed thickly and looked away, focusing on his empty fireplace instead. When he said nothing, she continued. 

“He said-“

Jack didn’t want to know what Hugh had said. Jack’d had to refuse his Constable at the hospital when the lad tried to come see him. The nurse had indicated that Hugh had wanted to express his appreciation to Jack for having saved his life. Jack didn’t want his gratitude, however. It was unnecessary.

“Hugh should not be sharing information about a police raid with a civilian… I’ll have a word about that with him.” 

Phryne was shocked at Jack’s bluntness. Sure, she expected and even deserved a certain level of Jack’s hostility, but Hugh didn’t. “Jack, you’re a hero.”

His eyes snapped to her, his expression angry. “I am no hero, Miss Fisher. I watched one of my men bleeding out because I wasn’t there to stop it from happening. Because I sent in three Constables together, rather than splitting them between my Sergeants. Because I overestimated their degrees of readiness. And now Mills is dead, Harris will likely never regain full use of his left arm and Hugh,” Jack didn’t want to reveal the level of pain inflicted on his favorite Constable. “Well, he will carry scars both physical and psychological for the rest of his life. The McCoys were ruthless and brutal in their beatings, and inflicted unconscionable injury to my men. And the fault lies with me.”

Phryne grew angry instantly. “What  _ rot _ , Jack Robinson! You are so full of shite! Their capture and injuries were  _ not _ your fault! Hugh told me that they had been assigned to the wing of the warehouse  _ least likely _ to contain any of the family members! You had tried to keep them  _ out _ of harm’s way! Somehow the family got wind of the raid and altered their own operations and points of entry that day; that is  _ not _ on you!” She pushed to her feet, her tears flowing freely at this point. 

“Hugh described how you saved them! He told me how you killed at least one of them before they managed to turn their sights on you, and it’s Hugh and Harris who feel at fault that their DI, in whom they have unshakable faith, had assumed the beatings that were meant for them!” She shifted her weight from one hip to the other. “Those Constables are grown men, and their every breath is not contingent on you, Jack!” 

Jack could feel his emotions boiling just below the surface. He didn’t know what Phryne wanted, didn’t know why she was here and he sure as hell didn’t understand her frustration. Nor was he in the mood to try to decipher her words - she was the one who had tossed him out on his arse, and he had no interest in arguing with her pointlessly. 

“What do you want from me, Phryne?! Why the hell are you here!?” He forced his body upright without the aid of a crutch and took a step towards her. “What’s your sudden interest in my whereabouts or whether or not I carry the blame for my men?” When she stood stock still as if surprised at his outburst, he huffed in aggravation and glared at her. 

“The last time you and I spoke, you kicked me out of your house  _ and _ out of your life. You made it perfectly clear that my feelings were inconsequential in the whole scheme of our existence and that my opinions on your welfare were unwelcome, at best! And now, here we are, what, five weeks later? You show up uninvited at my doorstep, not a peep from you in the interim, and proceed to lecture me in my own home that I’m once again, what, wrong? Well, let me remind you, I didn’t ask your opinion on the matter! I didn’t contact your household and request a dressing down by the  _ Honorable _ Phryne Fisher!” 

He had hobbled away from his chair far enough that he now wished he hadn’t, or that he’d at least grabbed his support. Refusing to let her see his pain, however, he simply fisted his hands so tight that his blunt fingernails dug deep into his palms, surely leaving a row of tiny half-moons in their wake. 

He grew quiet, inhaling slowly and deeply through his nose, ignoring the pain in his ribs and trying to swallow the bile threatening to come up. He’d had many similar fights with Rosie towards the end of their marriage. She always said he shouldered too much guilt, that he carried the weight of the world - or at least that of the Victoria Constabulary - and that he needed to let someone else lighten his load. But Rosie didn’t understand the torment, the regrets he had buried deep in his gut, and she never would. And, it seemed, such misunderstanding must be consistent across the female of the species, because Miss Fisher was now standing in his parlor arguing the same points… The main difference was that this fight, this confrontation with his once-partner, hurt so much more than the matches with Rosie… In the back of his mind, he wondered if it was because by the point of his marriage that they were going at it like this, they both knew deep down they were falling apart. And now Jack had to own not only a failed marriage, but also a team of injured Constables (not to mention one dead), and a hopelessly lost partnership, no matter how unconventional it had been. He suddenly didn’t want to fight; he was tired, and in pain, and he wanted to be alone to stew in his misery. 

“You should go,” he said bluntly, his back to her. 

“No, I shouldn’t.” 

Her response was quiet, and Jack was surprised that she had moved to standing so close behind him. His jaw clenched as he braced himself for what he expected to be a drawn-out argument. Her actions, though, forced him to drop his defenses instantly. It ached having her so near, but the agony was far, far worse when they were apart… 

“I should stay right here,” she continued, resting her hands on his shoulders gently, “until we’ve had a proper conversation.” Without hesitation, she rested her cheek against his shoulder blade, though she chose to ignore the way his body tensed. They had spent so much time together solving crimes, sharing drinks over the draughts board and flirting, but they’d hardly ever touched. She could hardly believe the instant charge she felt at the simple connection. 

“I have things to say, Jack, and I would very much appreciate it if you would listen…” 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome back! Here we are at the final chapter.   
> Let's see what our two favorite detectives have to say to each other...

The pair found themselves seated once more, this time with a tray of tea things between them. Jack had offered whiskey, but once he’d conceded that he couldn’t join her  _ (he’d been following Mac’s instructions to the T, thank you very much) _ Phryne decided that if he couldn’t indulge, she wouldn’t, either. 

They prepared the tea and biscuits, studiously avoiding the heavy topic that was looming over them, as if they’d had a silent agreement to wait until their stomachs were less empty. Once they’d finished their respective first cups of tea and most of the sweets, an awkward silence resettled around them. 

“I am sorry, Jack, for all the awful things I said that night,” she finally began, looking down at her own hands. Phryne Fisher knew she’d been hasty and cruel when he’d only been expressing concern at her capture. “Your intentions were good and your concerns well-founded… A realization that I’d only barely come to understand during my time away, but the dangers were made crystal clear in hearing Hugh’s telling of the raid…”

Jack looked at her, a pained expression filling his eyes. “They left you to  _ die _ , Phryne… And it was nothing but dumb luck that put me on your trail.” His jaw ticked and he tightened his fists where they rested in his lap. “When I saw you… The blood, the tattered clothes… I couldn’t help but think the worst…” 

“I know, Jack,” she responded softly, her head tilting to the side. 

“No, you don’t… You don’t know about the reports of the victims they’ve left in their wake… We’ve kept the stories from the media, trying to avoid mass panic.” Blinking away unwelcome tears, he raised his eyes to meet hers. “The unspeakable things they’ve done to women, Phryne…” He swallowed thickly, his eyes falling away once again. “When I saw you bound and gagged…” His words fell away as he sorted his thoughts. “I can’t… I can’t bear to think what they might have done to you had they the inclination or the time…”

“I  _ know _ , darling,” she was suddenly beside him, kneeling on the floor beside his chair, her hand resting on his shoulder. She’d never before used any sort of term of endearment for Jack, but it had slipped from her tongue so seamlessly she had no mental warning, though she had no desire to take it back. If he was at all surprised by it, he didn’t show it. She reached up and palmed his cheek, her thumb brushing over a horribly discolored bruise in its healing process. “If I’d had any idea there would have actually been activity at the warehouse that night, I wouldn’t have gone.”

At that, his eyes swiveled in her direction and an eyebrow arched. 

She sighed and rolled her own eyes in response. “Alright. I might have gone, but I would have told you.” 

“No you wouldn’t have. I know you by now, Miss Fisher. You might have told Miss Williams or Mr. Butler, but you haven’t faith enough to tell me.” 

His words cut her like a knife and she rocked back on her heels. “Jack,” she shook her head. “I have more faith in you than I have in any other man. Almost more than I have in anyone at all.” 

“Then why do you constantly exclude me from your plans? Why am I always finding out after the fact that you gained entry to a suspect’s home or picked up a piece of evidence, which you’ve thoroughly investigated  _ prior  _ to turning over to the Victoria Constabulary? I have included you in my investigations not only because your insight and connections are invaluable, but because I enjoy working with you… But I can’t trust and work with someone who doesn’t have the same trust in me.” 

“I never meant to give you the impression that I don’t trust you, Jack. My faith in you, not only as an officer of the law, but also as a man, has never wavered.” She fell to her bottom, sitting on the floor, and hugged her knees to her chest. “I act on instinct; it’s not always rational… It’s rarely thought through completely… But I would think some of what I do in my own investigations, you shouldn’t know about - you know, plausible deniability and all that…?” Her eyes were searching his, hoping to see understanding shining back at her. . 

“ _ Twenty minutes, Phryne, _ ” he stressed. “Twenty more minutes and I would have been fishing your  _ corpse  _ out of the tide. If you want to investigate, fine, but I need you to let me in,” he reached down and grasped her hand, where it was balled against her leg. “If I’d known you were even interested in the case, or on the scent of something, I could have not only provided you back-up, but let you in on the true nature of the beasts. At least then you might have had a fighting chance.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Though, based on the efficiency with which they took down my Constables...” He didn’t finish his thought, but he knew she understood the implication. When he saw her swipe angrily at a tear, he tugged her hand, pulling her attention up to him. 

“When I came to Wardlow after your discharge from hospital, it wasn’t to pick a fight, it was to see with my own eyes that you truly were alright. And to show you that I was worried. I was not there to lecture you about deficiencies you think I see in your abilities, but because I care, Phryne…  _ About you _ ; I care about  _ you _ . So very much.” 

She pushed up to her knees again and reached for him, taking care not to press on his injured ribs. In an uncharacteristic move, he parted his knees and she leaned against his chest, pressing her cheek to his pec so she could hear his heart. “I know, Jack,” she whispered, her voice husky with emotion. “I care, too… But I don’t know how to do this…” 

He wrapped one arm around her shoulders and threaded his other hand into her hair, pressing his face into the top of her head. He took a moment and just breathed… He filled his lungs with the sweet scent of her shampoo, her signature French perfume and whatever it was that just made her  _ Phryne _ . Absently, he pressed a kiss against her silky tresses, allowing his lips to linger longer than necessary. 

“You don't know how to do  _ what _ , Miss Fisher?” 

“Let myself be loved… and give my love in return…” 

His body tensed and his eyes flew open. Surely he was dreaming; he was in a drug induced slumber… Maybe he hadn’t followed Mac’s instructions as carefully as he thought he’d done, and now he was laying on his parlor floor, overdosed into a coma… Or maybe he never even made it out of the hospital and he was dead… No matter the situation, he knew it wasn’t real and his heart broke for it. 

His entire body ached for not being able to, in real life, confess all that he’d just said and now he was going to die and she’d never know that he’d only been angry because he cared… With the sinking feeling one gets when they finally learn their fate is lost, he closed his eyes and whispered into her hair, pressing kisses and stroking her neck with soft caresses that she’d never feel. 

“I’ve loved you for so long, Phryne. I’m so sorry…” He didn’t bother to stop himself from crying - what was the point, he was either in a coma or dying - so he let the tears slip from his eyes and trail down his cheeks, to be absorbed by her phantom hair. 

She huffed against his chest, her own tears falling for a different reason. “Why,” she gulped, certain that he was actually sorry for loving a woman who was incapable of loving in return. “Why are you sorry, Jack?”

“I should have told you,” he managed to push out as his throat tightened. “I should have paid no mind to propriety or societal expectations… I should have just told you. Then maybe it wouldn’t have come to this… And now it’s too late...” 

Phryne wrinkled her brow, slightly confused.  _ Too late? _ Had something else happened in the five weeks she’d been away? Had her dear inspector taken up with some other woman about whom she knew nothing? Or was their partnership beyond repair? She lifted her face away from his chest, forcing him to sit upright, though he did so with a wince of discomfort. 

“It’s too late for what, Jack?” 

His soulful, stormy eyes searched hers, silently willing her to understand without him having to spell it out. Even in his hallucinations, she refused to submit to his wishes, so he sighed. “It’s too late to say it, to tell the real Phryne Fisher that I love her… And so I’m here, talking to you… And she will never know…” 

She couldn’t stop the bubble of laughter, albeit a brief one, that burst from her chest. “Jack, it is me! I am me!” She palmed his cheek. “Look at me,” she grabbed his hand and pressed it against her chest, allowing him to feel the heartbeat, “feel. I don’t know what you think is happening - whether you think you’re dreaming, or what, but I’m here, Jack. In your parlor. Asking for your forgiveness, and telling you that I love you, too.” 

Jack blinked slowly. She felt so  _ real; _ even in his non-medicated dreams, she hadn’t been so authentic, so absolute. Her skin was warm, her hair sweet and soft, her eyes so vivid… He pulled his hand from her upper-breast, the steady thump-thump of her heart still vibrating through his veins, and he traced her jaw with a single finger. 

“Phryne,” he whispered reverently. 

“Jack,” she held his wrist, like he was a lifeline. “I don’t like it when we fight, or when we are apart… I don’t know how to do this, but if you have any desire to explore whatever  _ this  _ is between us, if you’re patient with me, I will do my best to keep up and not let you down.”

He couldn’t believe his ears and he blinked again, willing his conscious mind to rid him of these tortuous images if they were not real. When he opened them again, they fell on her pale gaze as she looked up at him from below. 

“If I have any desire….?” He could hardly grasp why  _ anyone _ , man or woman, wouldn’t harbor a desire for this infuriating Lady Detective. “You are all I desire, Miss Fisher.” 

She stretched up and pressed a kiss to his mouth before he could retract the declaration, before he could change his mind. As they parted, neither eager to stop, he rubbed his nose against hers and cupped her neck tenderly. 

“I know I could never ask you to stay, Miss Fisher, but if you are so intent on leaving town again so quickly, would you at least leave some contact details?” 

She chuckled. “I’m not planning to skip town anytime soon, Inspector. We have a lot of catching up to do.” Her coy smile was met with his deep chuckle and a grunt of pain when his ribs complained at the excess movement. “But first,” she stood up, “we need to get you feeling better.” She held her hand out for his. “It’s late, Jack. Your body needs sleep and I’m absolutely exhausted. After all, I didn’t get to have my normal sleep-in this morning since I was on the road at the ungodly hour of eight a.m., and I’ve been chasing after you since I got home.” When he stood slowly, she looked up at him with clear vision. “So, if you’re not opposed to the idea, I plan to spend the night.” 

His jaw dropped but before he could protest, she was already overriding his objections. 

“Just to sleep, Jack. You are in no condition to keep up with my plans for you… But,” she felt her cheeks blossom in a blush. “I would very much like to know what it feels like to sleep beside my noble DI Robinson… And to wake up in his arms…” 

Jack’s lips tugged into a crooked smile. “I think I can live with that,” he quipped and tugged her gently against his body. Now that he was allowed to kiss her, and touch her, and eventually to make love to her, he intended to make good on a great number of previously-hidden desires. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for coming along for the ride with the JazzyMuse. I really hope you enjoyed it and that it offered you a bit of a respite from whatever monotony you might be experiencing. 
> 
> If you've taken a moment to send a Kudos, thank you so very much. If you've put the effort forth to leave a comment, I send cyber-hugs and high-fives!   
> If it weren't for readers like ALL of you, whether your're a beloved lurker or an interactive social butterfly, there would be no reason to publish our crazy thoughts and adventures. So, I send my appreciation to each and every one of you, thanks for giving me a reason to share my thoughts - no matter how far-fetched they are :) 
> 
> Be well.   
> peace and love, my friends  
> ~jazzy

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, I’d love to hear from you! I promise, all your Kudos and Comments are greatly appreciated - I’ll apologize preemptively if I fail to respond … I’m considered an ‘essential worker,’ so I don’t actually have much time off work right now, but your encouragement always means so very much!!  
> Please remember to stay healthy. 
> 
> peace and love, my friends,  
> ~jazzy


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